


The Sleepers in that Quiet Earth

by Narya_Flame



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Age, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 13:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3769660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/pseuds/Narya_Flame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros/Fingon.  A supernatural double drabble.  Warnings for slash and canon character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sleepers in that Quiet Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Maedhros led an army across a field of stinking corpses.   
  
"The men are afraid," Fingon whispered in his ear.   
  
"Of what?"   
  
"Ghosts."   
  
"I do not believe in ghosts."   
  
"Dost thou not?" smiled Fingon, and vanished.   
  
His gut froze.  _Findekáno…_   
  
"I am here, beloved." A cool hand cupped his face. "Thou art dreaming."   
  
Maedhros opened his eyes, sweat prickling on his brow. His cousin's black hair tickled his cheek; he reached up and buried his fingers in its roots. "Swear to me that thou art not a ghost."   
  
Fingon laughed and kissed his neck. Warmth blossomed from the place his lips had touched. "Art thou satisfied, Maitimo?"   
  
"Yes. Yes."   
  
They wound their arms around one another and slept.   
  
*   
  
The next time Maedhros held his cousin, he was cradling his broken corpse on the battlefield of the Nírnaeth Arnediad.   
  
"Do not leave me, beloved," he whispered into the blood-clotted hair. "Haunt me if thou wilt, possess me, but do not leave me alone!"   
  
He felt a whispered laugh in the air, a fleeting kiss on his brow.  _I thought that thou didst not believe in ghosts, Maitimo?_   
  
"Findekáno!"   
  
Crows cawed. The wounded moaned.    
  
Maedhros shook his head. "I am going mad."


End file.
